#lustquote

“We’re just cigarettes?” he questions. “Yes,” I answer. He takes a puff, letting the smoke fill the air around us. “Elaborate?” I shift on the rooftop, staring up at the stars. He sits, patiently waiting, like I have all the answers to the universe. Sometimes I feel like I do. I turn to see his green eyes impaling me. “Cigarettes are toxic.” “I know,” he says a bit rudely. “So are people.” He stays silent now. “But yet, we still smoke and still associate ourselves with those toxic people. Why?” “I don’t know.” “I guess we like control of the pain. But people are only cigarettes, you see. Humans are toxic. You, for example have hurt me before, but I still see you because you’re worth the toxic to my lungs.” “I don’t follow,” he states, dumbfounded. I smile. “You’re going to smoke everyone, right? You’ll use them until they leave because in the end you flick everyone. You just have to find out whose worth smoking before you flick them. If they’re worth the toxins, smoke the hell out of them.” He flicks his cigarette, frowning at the black shingles. “What if I don’t want to flick you?” “Then don’t smoke me. Leave me in that black box forever.” He ponders this, his hair falling in his eyes. “But then I can’t breathe in all of you.” I smile again. “I’ll corrupt you anyway. I am a cigarette after all.” “But you’re worth it.” “I’m still toxic. We all are.” He pulls out another cigarette from his jacket pocket and holds it in front of us, twirling it between his fingers. “Human life is really as valuable as a cigarette to you?” I chuckle. “Of course not, but people hurt each other. Humans are selfish.” “Sounds like you’ve lost your faith in humanity,” he points out which is slightly true, but I don’t say it. I look away from him and stare at the stars. Three of them align to make a perfect triangle, which gets my mind going about other theories. “The Universe,” I say. “What about it?” I look back over to him again. I shrug. “It’s weird, don’t you think? How it makes things happen?” This time, he looks up and stares at the full moon. “I’d like to think it knows what it’s doing, but then again I’m not sure it does.” “Maybe the Universe is as lost as we are.” “You think so?” I grab the cigarette out of his hand and begin twirling it my own. “We all look up to it, like it has all the answers, but who’s to say it’s not a cigarette to something bigger?” “You always have some conspiracy.” I chuckle and light the cigarette, taking a long drag off of it. “It’s not a conspiracy if it’s true.” “The galaxies in your head are so big I’m surprised you associate yourself with stars.” I give him a curious glance and take another puff, letting the smoke engulf us both. “Cigarettes are all the same thing, even with different labels.” “Perhaps.” “What, you don’t think so?” “I think you’re everyone’s cigarette they refuse to smoke.” “Why’s that?” I flick the barely smoked stick to the rooftop. “No one wants to flick you, but they want to smoke everything out of you, because you hide so much. Everyone wants in, but no one is good enough to breathe you in or crave you late at night. No one is worthy of that. You’re that cigarette that stays in the box, forever.” “That’s going to get lonely,” I state. “You secluded yourself, anyway.” “Perhaps,” I mock. Silence lingers for a moment. “Either way, someone is going to smoke me one of these days, even if I don’t want them too.” “What do you think is going to happen?” I give a sad smile. “They’re going to flick me halfway through. I’m the most toxic person you’ll meet.”

Bite my lip and tell me how much you want me